


The Last Straw

by sidebyside_archivist



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Light BDSM, M/M, Religious Fanaticism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-09-01
Updated: 2000-09-01
Packaged: 2020-06-24 08:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19720378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidebyside_archivist/pseuds/sidebyside_archivist
Summary: Kirk finds out how far he can push his Vulcan.





	The Last Straw

**Author's Note:**

> Note from LadyKardasi and Sahviere, the archivists: this story was originally archived at [Side by Side](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Side_by_Side_\(Star_Trek:_TOS_zine\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. We tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Side by Side’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sidebyside/profile).

It began as a routine side trip to Amreth, a 'fleet-governed colony on the fringe of the galaxy. The only thing unusual about the place, in fact, was that it had a military governer, and the reason for Enterprise's diversion to Amreth was to pick him up. His replacement had been dropped off some months earlier, and matters being apparently now in his hands, his predecessor was to leave.

Enterprise, the message said, would with all due speed divert from its exploration of potentially inhabited planets along its present course and proceed to the port of Amreth City where it would beam aboard one Commodore Donald Leyland, formerly Military Governor of Amreth, and would further make haste to a specific set of celestial coordinates where said Commodore Leyland would be transferred to the destroyer Harald.

Annoying, considering the number of ongoing projects that would have to be postponed until they could get back to this particular part of space, but hardly world-shattering.

Kirk scanned down the screenful of particulars on Amreth that he'd requested from Sociology, saw nothing remarkable in its present political situation, though they'd had some tragic bloody incidents in the past, and went off-duty to dinner with Spock.

"You know anything about Amreth?" he asked off-handedly. Spock invariably seemed to know something about almost anything you could think of to ask him.

"The government was overthrown by a group of religious fanatics approximately ten planet years ago," Spock told him, but Kirk already knew that from the abstract he'd read earlier. "And there have been incidents of violence on several occasions since then."

"I know," Kirk broke in. "That's why they ended up with a military governor. Do you know what sort of religious bunch this was? Overthrowing your own government seems like extreme behavior for a purely religious group."

Spock gave him an eyebrow for that bit of naivete, but elucidated further. "It seems to have been more a political movement than a spiritual one. They were xenophobic to a remarkable degree, believing in a universal deity whose stamp of approval fell only on humans of purely Terran stock."

"Ouch. That's embarrassing."

"Their behavior is hardly representative of Terrans as a species."

"I hope not. Wonder what they made of the children of inter-species marriages."

"Such as myself? I should think I would have been 'beyond the pale,' so to speak."

It was said lightly, but somewhere in there Kirk could hear the echoes of childish taunts and perhaps later ones as well. He touched Spock gently on the arm. "Their loss, Mr. Spock."

Commodore Leyland turned out to be British, soft-spoken and about ten years older than Kirk. "Donald," he said firmly. "I'm on holiday, you might say, so let's not have titles and such. I'll not be a commodore much longer anyway."

Kirk gave him a questioning look and he said, "I've asked for a ship again. If the powers that be won't grant me that, I'm thinking I'd rather be doing something else. I've given Starfleet my whole life and it'ud be a shame to turn my back on it, but I'm not cut out to govern civilians, nor push paper. If I can't have a ship of theirs, I'll have one of my own, poor as it'll be compared with this."

"I wish you luck, then," Kirk told him, knowing how unlikely it was that he'd be assigned a command of his own after years on the ground.

He left Leyland in Lt. Sulu's care--it appeared that they knew each other, and a lieutenant seemed a high enough rank to get a commodore settled in. They went off down the corridor calling each other 'Donald' and 'Hikaru.' An hour later Sulu was back on the bridge with Leyland in tow.

"Sorry, captain, you don't mind a brief tour for Commodore Leyland, do you?"

"No, of course not. Comm--Donald, please feel free to explore any part of the ship. The bridge is off limits only if we're in alert status."

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Sulu took him around the circle, introducing him to each officer, describing the function of each station. He found himself hoping Leyland would get the ship he wanted so badly; he was affable and friendly, yet managed to project the air of authority a commander needed, acknowledging each introduction with impeccable courtesy and intelligent questions. From his comments, Kirk could tell that his years dirtside hadn't dulled his understanding of 'fleet hardware one bit. Perhaps there was some hope after all.

He'd meant to share his mealtime with Spock, something that had become a bit of a habit lately, but yielded to an impulse and invited Leyland to join him instead.

The lilt in Leyland's voice, that was British and yet something more, turned out to be the soft burr of northern England. "Ormskirk," he said. "Just a suburb of Liverpool, after they abolished that Merseyside nonsense, but the Wars left it a scar on the land. My grandda set up horse training there, thought it's no' so very good a place as the midlands. He helped to restore the bloodlines and saw the sport revived after it was nearly destroyed."

Kirk thought furiously and came up with, "Umm, horse racing? Is that the sport you mean?"

"Indeed. And my father too, and then my sister, who trained to be his assistant from the time she could walk, and my brother who was Champion Jockey when he was thirty. And I--all I wanted to do was fly. Great disappointment I was."

"I can sympathize with that," Kirk told him dryly, "though in my case it was because my father was killed out here that my family didn't want me in 'fleet. I don't think they'd have cared much what profession I pursued as long as I stayed near home."

They spoke of many things--Leyland's time on Amreth and the political situation there ("Still volatile," he said), the two commands he'd had prior to being named military governor of Amreth, some of Kirk's experiences on Enterprise and his other ships, the Academy and how it had changed now that non-humans were attending in greater numbers. It was the most engrossing conversation he'd had with anyone other than Spock in a very long time.

"I have reports to finish up," he said regretfully, glancing at the chrono on the wall. "Have you got everything you need? If not, just let me know and I'll see that someone takes care of it. Or call the Quartermaster if I'm not available."

"Your young Lt. Sulu has seen to all my needs," Leyland told him. "It was a pleasure to see him here, by the way. He was just an ensign, last I knew him, on the _Taipei_ , a skinny mite of a thing who couldn't make up his mind whether to be a botanist or a Samurai. Tis good to see he's matured, and filled out a bit too."

They parted in the corridor, Leyland saying he'd just go on to Main Rec for a look about. Kirk saw him rounding the curve outside the junior officers cabins much later, and wondered whether he'd been in Sulu's quarters, but there was no reason he shouldn't have been, after all, if they were old friends.

Leyland was to have been on board only three days, but on the second of them, Kirk received a message in his morning packet of orders that Harald had been diverted to deal with someone else's problem. Enterprise would therefore please continue on course to Starbase Seven and disembark Commodore Leyland there.

Spock looked unexpectedly irritated at this extended interruption of his department's work and Leyland apologized to one and all for the inconvenience he had caused, but the general reaction from the crew was 'Woohooo! How long are we going to be there?'

Unlike most of the other starbases--strictly military installations with limited recreational facilities of any kind--Seven had been a freeport in its early days and still maintained a large free-trade civilian sector with all the usual shore leave amenities. It was, as a consequence, a highly popular stopover.

"I don't think you need to apologize," Kirk told Leyland as they sat together at lunch several days later. "You've just become everyone's best friend. It's been over a Terran year since the last time we were at Seven. Scotty's arranging for everything to be fixed that needs it, and everyone else is betting on how drunk they can get. I'll authorize as much leave as I can--I think everyone could use it."

"Even the captain, then?" Leyland asked him with a grin.

"Yes, maybe even the captain. Depends on what they've got for diversion. Last time I was here it was pretty much all brothels, bars and bead-merchants."

Leyland laughed with a deep amused rumble at his description. He was a largish man, barely taller than Kirk but more stocky--thick reddish hair and heavy brows over a strongly built face, not someone easily ignored or forgotten. He'd come aboard in uniform but had quickly switched to civilian clothing, usually an open-necked shirt with short sleeves that showed off muscular arms and the hint of a hairy chest. It also revealed a coppery-gold chain with an intricately carved small pendant. The fact that he wore the chain regardless of his other garb made Kirk wonder whether it had personal or religious significance, but he wasn't sure it would be appropriate to ask.

Leyland solved that problem for him, catching him staring at it a couple of evenings later as they sat in an alcove off the larger space of Main Rec. "That's the family crest of someone I was close to once," he said. "Dead now, 's a pity. But I wear the device in his memory. Got me in a peck of trouble on Amreth, it did."

"I'd wondered what it was," Kirk admitted. "How could it have gotten you in trouble, though?"

"It's Altairan. Native Altairan, I mean, not that imitative garbage the colonists there turn out. Non-human, that is to say."

"And you got in trouble for wearing it on Amreth? I thought it was that sort of thing you were there to put down."

Leyland shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Tis a fine line between governance and dictatorship, that it is. Amreth wasn't as cut and dried as many would like to believe--there were evil men there surely, but there were many others who might have had a touch of xenophobia in their hearts but wouldn't have picked up a rifle to express it. Walking lightly, but still wearing Pyll'is crest was a way of saying I'd not be pushed too far one way or the other--I wouldn't condone outright violence or bigotry but I wouldn't stop people thinking whatever they liked to think. And like most fence-sitting, it just pissed off everyone. I'll tell you, Jim, I'm happy to be out of there."

"I'm not a diplomat either, or much of an administrator outside of my ship. I'd be in trouble with the paperwork as it is if it weren't for Spock--he takes a lot of it off my shoulders."

"Pyll'i did that for me. Took a disruptor blast for me too. That's one reason I wear this, to honor him."

Leyland's face tightened and he got to his feet. "Tis late and I'm not as young as I used to be. I've enjoyed the conversation, that I have. Sleep well, Captain."

He strode off, leaving Jim to wonder just who Pyll'i had been--fellow officer, or more than that? He knew there were a very few native Altairans in 'fleet, mostly on Survey where their quick integrative minds took in masses of data and came to unexpected conclusions that no one else had seen. They were the only ones who routinely beat Vulcans at chess.

Thinking of Vulcans made him wonder what Spock had been doing these last few days. He and Spock had been spending increasing amounts of off-duty time together, everything from chess games to sparring in the gym to just tossing ideas back and forth. He still didn't think he had a handle on the Vulcan psyche but it was interesting to see familiar concepts from Spock's point of view. Made him think about his beliefs, if nothing else. And there had been a tantalizingly intimate quality to their encounters lately, the conversational shorthand that develops between old friends, a decreasing personal space with each other. He was a little surprised that Spock seemed to be as comfortable with it as he was, but they had been close now, after all, for almost five years. He glanced around a bit guiltily, realizing he hadn't seen Spock at all, other than on the bridge, since Leyland had come on board. No sign of him here tonight either.

He spotted McCoy leaning back precariously in a chair in one corner, his eye on an argument going on nearby. McCoy glanced up as he approached, with a surprised smile.

"Hi! Where's your friend?"

"My friend?"

"Our passenger. Leyland. You've hardly been out of each other's sight since he came on board."

"That's not true," Kirk said uncomfortably. "He's the highest ranking officer on the ship right now--I'm supposed to be polite to him."

"People are talking," McCoy told him. "Just be aware of that."

"Huh?" Kirk asked, feeling stupid. "Talking about what? You're not making any sense."

"The word is that you've dumped Spock and you're taking up with Leyland."

"The-- _what?_ "

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought you ought to be aware of what's been fueling the gossip mill the last few days."

"Let's talk," Kirk told him. "Now. Not here."

He turned on his heel and walked away, not waiting to see whether McCoy was following him.

McCoy caught up with him at the lift. "Look, Jim, that was probably a little crude. I apologize."

"What exactly are you apologizing for?" Kirk demanded. "Your suggestion that I would& 'dump' one friend in favor of another, or your unwarranted assumption that there's anything more than friendship here, with either of them?"

The lift doors opened and they stepped inside. "Deck three."

McCoy was looking at him with a bit of puzzlement. "Jim, are you saying you don't have any sort of relationship with Spock? Other than friends?"

"Are you saying everyone thinks we do?" Kirk asked incredulously.

McCoy said uncertainly, "It's pretty common knowledge. I don't think anyone has a problem with it."

The doors opened at their deck and Kirk strode off down the corridor to his quarters, staying ahead of McCoy so the shell-shocked look on his face couldn't be seen. The crew thought he and Spock were _lovers_? He wondered whether anyone had had the nerve to mention it to Spock, and what the Vulcan's reaction could possibly have been.

McCoy followed him into his cabin in obvious reluctance. "Look, Jim, maybe I jumped to conclusions there. I apologize, like I said."

Kirk wasn't about to let him off that easily. "I want to know right now what this 'common knowledge' is that you're talking about."

"That you and Spock have a Vulcan--relationship. A bond."

"A Vulcan _sexual_ relationship."

McCoy shrugged, squirming a little. "Yeah. I guess that's what it would be."

"How in god's name did something like that get started? And can you imagine what Spock must be thinking if he's heard any hint of it? Goddammit, Bones, I don't need that kind of talk making the rounds. This is a starship, not a fucking junior high school. We're all supposed to be professionals in our fields, not a bunch of adolescents playing games!"

"You coop a bunch of humans up in a place this size for this amount of time and gossip is inevitable," McCoy told him. "Yes, we're all professionals and officers, but we're all human too. Or most of us. But even the non-humans in the crew join in the talk. It's part of being sentient, to enjoy that kind of speculation about who's bonking whom."

"Not Spock!" Kirk snapped.

McCoy's eyes narrowed. "Not Spock, as in 'Spock wouldn't gossip'? I'll agree with that--he's one of the very few who wouldn't. 'Not Spock,' as in 'Don't talk about him that way?'" You're a few years too late for that edict, if that's what it is."

"No one ought to be speculating about what their senior officers do together." He caught the change of expression on McCoy's face and added, "Or don't do. How can I discipline someone for misconduct when I'm wondering if they think I'm out of line myself?"

"Just keep reminding yourself that it's none of their damned business what you do with Spock. You don't seem to worry about what people think of your female conquests."

"That's different!"

"They aren't crew, granted. How else is it different? Are you all worked up here because Spock is an officer under your command? Or because he's another man?"

It was Kirk's turn to be uncertain. "Because he's a member of my crew," he said, hearing the doubt in his own voice. "And because he's Vulcan. It's not something he would allow, and for people to be spreading rumors about us is demeaning to him, if not to me."

McCoy didn't answer him for a moment, tightening his lips and looking away as though there were something he wanted to say and couldn't quite come up with the words.

"What is it?" Kirk asked him.

"I think you're wrong about what he would allow," McCoy said simply. "I think he's about as furious right now as I've ever seen him, and don't tell me Vulcans don't do 'furious.' I've seen Spock worked up into a pretty impressive rage, if you recall."

"Because I've been spending time with Donald Leyland?" Kirk demanded. "That's ridiculous. Spock and I don't have any kind of arrangement that would give either of us the right to dictate who the other one spends his time with."

"You might want to just have a talk with him," McCoy suggested.

"I'll talk to him all right. Long enough to assure him that I'm not paying any attention to this crap. He needs to know that our friendship is just that--friendship. How is he supposed to feel if he thinks I'm secretly lusting after him?"

McCoy said simply, "Loved. Wanted. Appreciated. A few other things that I don't think he gets much of. Vulcans may have a strange way of showing it, but they need those things as much as the rest of us."

A memory came back, unbidden, of the glint in Spock's eyes once recently when Kirk had made a personal compliment. It was no more than he'd seen many other times, nothing blatant, just a muted happiness that he'd taken for granted without much thinking about what had prompted it. The thought that it might have been something closer to what McCoy was implying was disconcerting, to say the least. It wasn't that he rejected the potential for greater intimacy with Spock; he was just absolutely certain that Spock had not intended anything more. The last thing he needed was to have their working relationship screwed up with intimations of some adolescent crush on his part.

"There's a big difference between showing appreciation and wanting to go to bed with someone," he said flatly. "I do let Spock know that I value him. I'll continue to do that. And you, Doctor, are going to do everything you can to put an end to this ridiculous rumor that your captain and first officer are, as you so delicately put it, 'bonking' each other."

"Is it just a rumor then, Jim?"

"After everything I've said, you still think something is going on here?" Kirk demanded, unbelieving. "Yes, it is totally unfounded pernicious gossip, and if I ever find out who started it, we'll be looking for a replacement crewmember the next day. Now get out of here so I can figure out what the hell I'm going to say to Spock."

McCoy nodded and left without a word, and Kirk stood in the middle of his cabin, his mind in a whirl, wondering just what the heck he was going to say after all. It wasn't as though he'd never thought of it, he and Spock together. In fact, there had been an increasing number of late night unbidden fantasies that led just as often to intensely erotic dreams. Thoughts of what Spock's fine hair would feel like under his fingers, how it would be to have Spock's hands on him, to lie together with his hands on Spock's ass. But the ramifications of it--the potential for conflict with his command, all the issues that could arise between two people who shared both a work and a professional relationship, the unknowns of Vulcan sexuality . . . Hell, what he did know of Vulcan sexuality was enough to scare anyone off, though Spock's mother seemed not to have any problem with it. He put all these random and pointless thoughts out of his mind and went in search of Spock.

He had thought it would be a simple explanation. _I'm sorry if you've been concerned about certain gossip that's making the rounds, just want to assure you that I had nothing to do with it . . ._ Et cetera, et cetera. _You're my friend, I wouldn't presume anything else, I value our relationship, wouldn't do anything to jeopardize it, you don't need to worry about my behavior._ And so on. The only trouble was that Spock's expression, that ordinarily was relatively unguarded with him, grew more and more remote, and the reassurances he'd thought he was giving turned into a stumbling list of denials. Not anything but friends, of course that was all. Not trying to suggest anything, nothing to worry about--as Spock's face grew ever more uncommunicative.

Spock finally cut him off. "Captain, I understand perfectly. You have no reason to be concerned."

"All right," he said weakly. "That's good. I just didn't want you to think there was anything--"

Spock interrupted him again, which was pretty extraordinary behavior all by itself. "Captain, there is no need to be disturbed."

He gestured at his terminal. "I am in the midst of some research that I would like to complete tonight. If I may be excused?"

"Uh, sure. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow then."

Spock merely nodded, and Kirk managed to get himself out of the cabin without falling over anything. He felt as embarrassed and clumsy as he remembered from his teenaged years, saying the wrong thing when the right words were so important, obviously misjudging the whole encounter. It wasn't until he was back in his own cabin and out of the tense atmosphere that the anomalies really hit him. Spock had called him 'Captain' twice in a row, had interrupted him twice, and had practically kicked him out of the Vulcan's quarters. That was behavior strange enough to have set off a mental red alert if he hadn't been so focused on his own awkwardness. His assurances had obviously not been sufficient if Spock felt it necessary to put that much distance between them. Uneasy, he drifted off to sleep, thinking he would have to be more careful about some things he usually ignored, such as the Vulcan dislike of being touched. Spock didn't normally make an issue of it, and he tended to forget. Donald, now, he touched everyone as naturally as Kirk did himself, and with that thought, sleep overtook him finally.

Spock was not in evidence at breakfast the next morning, but Donald turned up just as Kirk was getting his coffee and eggs, along with Sulu. They parted inside the door, with Sulu joining a table of other junior officers. Leyland caught his eye and he motioned to him to come over. The man was in obvious good spirits, smiling cheerfully.

"G'd morning to you, Jim," he beamed.

"You're in a good mood today," Kirk observed, smiling back. Donald's smile was infectious, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes, his full mouth revealing even white teeth.

"That I am, that I am. The further I get from that cursed place the happier I am. And Hikaru has been extolling the pleasures of Starbase Seven, so I'm convinced nobody minds ferrying me a bit further on than planned."

"Only Mr. Spock," Kirk said without thinking, and then had to explain. "Several of his departments were in the middle of projects that have had to be put aside until we're back to where we got the orders to pick you up. I'll bet his people don't mind, though. We were overdue for some R & R."

"Your Mr. Spock doesn't like me much," Donald said. "Tis a bit of a puzzle. I've worked with Vulcans before and didn't have the feeling they'd like to catch me in a dark corner somewhere."

"Mr. Spock?" Kirk asked him, surprised. "I can't imagine him behaving that way. Are you sure?"

"If I hadn't been around Vulcans much, I'd have thought he was just the stereotype you hear about--arrogant, like? But I stay out of his way, so don't you worry."

"That's completely atypical behavior for him," Kirk said. "Perhaps I'd better have a talk with him." But he remembered the results of his last talk with Spock and grimaced. Maybe he'd better keep his big mouth shut.

Leyland seemed to agree. "No need for that," he said easily. "Not on my account. I do wonder though--" He paused and tilted his head at Kirk. "He's not near his . . . um, time, is he? Seems a bit more than ordinarily hostile. I'd have said jealous, I would."

"Jealous? Of what?"

"Of me, perhaps? I don't know what your relationship is with him, and it's none of my business, but the skinny is that you've pretty much dropped him since I've been on board." Leyland's face sharpened from its usual good-natured blandness. "If you are involved with him, and he's feeling pressed over it, I don't fancy the thought of being in the middle."

Kirk set his coffee down with a thump. "My god. What do I have to do to convince people that Spock and I are just friends? I only found out last night that the whole crew, apparently, thinks we're in some kind of exotic Vulcan relationship. I'm sorry you've been bothered over it, but there is absolutely no truth to it. We've been friends for a long time and that is all."

Leyland leaned back with an apparently relieved smile. "Well, that's taken care of, then. I don't mind admitting I felt a bit apprehensive, that I did. We had a Vulcan colony on Amreth, you know. Their sexual cycle got to be common knowledge and you can guess the kind of wild stories that went around. God-fearing folk wouldn't let their daughters near the Vulcans. Didn't worry about their sons, now--just goes t'show how much they knew."

"I thought Vulcans bonded their children to their future mates," Kirk said, wondering exactly what Leyland meant.

"On Vulcan, they do. Not in all the colonies. Our Vulcans believed in choosing their own mates and they didn't discriminate about the species or the gender. That's what finally tipped the balance in the human-only movement there, you know. Too many humans taking up with Vulcans, and not just the girls with the boys. It got pretty ugly for a while. Didn't matter what your prejudice was--you only had t'look about you to find somebody breaking the rules."

"Vulcan males with other men?" Jim asked, half-fearing to hear the answer. "I'd never heard of that."

"And the lasses, too, with each other. A right garden of iniquity we had, according to some." He grinned at Kirk. "Of course, the rest of us--we thought we'd passed over the river into Paradise."

And with that cryptic remark, he piled his dishes on his tray and got up. "If you'd like to come by my cabin some time today, I'll show you some holos I brought back with me from the Vulcan colony on Amreth. Come at lunch and I'll even feed you."

 _Step into my parlor,_ Jim thought ludicrously, _and I'll show you my dirty peectures._ "Sure, I'll stop by at lunchtime," he said, wondering what he was getting himself into.

It was as routine a day as they ever had out here. Spock was engaged in training all morning, a parade of people from other departments peering into his sensor screen and pretending they had some idea what they were looking at. He and Kirk had devised a departmental cross-training program intended to familiarize everyone with at least one other specialty than their own. Kirk couldn't remember ever having quite such a crowd on the bridge before but this was certainly a good time for it--well-mapped space firmly within Federation boundaries, navigational hazards long since plotted, all traffic accounted for. They didn't usually have the luxury of letting the computers fly the ship, so if he was annoyed with Spock for being so completely involved with other people today, he knew his reaction was unreasonable. At any rate, the very humdrum nature of this part of the trip gave him an excuse to knock off early for lunch.

He called Leyland from the intercom station at the center seat. "Donald, this is Jim. Is it lunchtime yet?"

_Oh, aye, come any time._

"Five minutes, then." He broke the connection and stood, stretching. "Mr. Sulu, would you take the con, please?"

He vacated his seat to Sulu and went straight to the lift. Normally he would have gone the other way, behind Spock's station, just to connect with the Vulcan before leaving the bridge. But the mass of people there made that impossible. He could hardly even see Spock in the huddle of bodies. Normally, of course, he would have turned command over to Spock. Just as well Spock was unavailable now, he thought--Sulu deserved a chance for once. He saw Sulu looking over his shoulder as he waited for the lift to close, with a more than usually inscrutable expression, and gave him a smile. Sulu didn't return it, as he would ordinarily have done. Kirk shrugged to himself, assuming that whatever his problem was, it would make itself known eventually. If he worried about every frown from a crewmember he'd have no time for anything else.

Donald had arranged for a plate of hearty sandwiches and cold drinks--beer for himself and iced tea for Jim, in deference to his being on duty. He had a small viewer set up for the holos and went through them as they ate. The pictures were pleasant ones, but nothing that would account for a special invitation to look at them, and Kirk began to wonder what had prompted Donald to suggest it. There were views of attractive landscaped homes, a medical facility, a school. There had been twenty families and an assortment of unattached adults, Leyland told him, about a hundred people altogether. There were shots of family groups, more Vulcan children than Kirk had ever seen before, pictures of various officials, some together with Leyland. Finally an older Vulcan who reminded him somewhat of Sarek, but with more expression in the handsome mature face.

"This is Stovik. The Vulcans didn't have a government to speak of, but he was pretty much their leader. Amazing man. He could get anything done. Charm you out of your boots if you didn't keep an eye on him. I used to sit back and watch people try to squirm out of whatever it was he wanted and wager with myself how long they'd hold out. Lost every time."

He grinned at Kirk's obvious confusion. "Doesn't sound like a Vulcan, is that what you're thinking?"

"Not like the Vulcans I know. And I don't mean just Spock."

"The home world is a stodgy place, that it is. Though I have to say, Mr. Spock seems much more like the Vulcans I knew than what I've heard of those on Vulcan itself. More emotional, that is to say."

"Spock? Emotional? I don't think too many people here would agree with that."

"Well, not breaking out in smiles, no. But he makes his feelings clear, that he does. But let's speak of something more pleasant. Here's the community park in the Vulcan colony. See that statuary? Those are alive, if you can believe it. They construct a substrate and then train different bits of greenery to grow just so to make the shape they want. It can take years for one piece and you have to be able to visualize the finished shape the whole time as the plants grow."

"You keep saying how happy you are to be away from there," Kirk commented, "but it sounds as though you're going to miss many of the people."

"I've been missing them for nigh on five months now," Leyland said quietly. "They're all dead. The humans-only folk massacred the whole colony. The park is all that's left, that and these pictures here. Didn't you know?"

Shocked, Kirk shook his head. "I knew that a Vulcan colony was attacked by some human fanatics. I didn't realize the extent of the violence though--an entire colony wiped out. My god!"

"We thought we had things under control," Leyland said, "and then one night the leader of the humans-only movement ferried in a couple of boatloads of his folk and destroyed the village. Bombed it into one big hole in the ground. I've never stopped blaming myself. I should have guessed that bastard was up to something."

Kirk frowned. "Were you relieved of your post because of it?"

Leyland shook his head with a grimace. "No, there was a hearing but I was cleared. I tried the whole time I was there to infiltrate that group and every man I put in there was detected and killed. 'Fleet agreed that there hadn't been much anyone could do to predict that level of violence. I just want no part of it any more. I only stayed until the leader of that bunch of devils was taken care of and my replacement was in control."

"Was he caught and put on trial then?"

"He was caught and given justice, yes. Trial--no, I didn't give him that."

"You killed him," Kirk guessed. "I suppose I'd have been tempted myself."

"Stovik was my lover," Leyland said calmly. "When he died, I thought I'd go crazy. This is all I have left of him."

Jim stared at him. "That's why you know so much about Vulcans."

"That's why I know Mr. Spock is about to jump out of his skin, aye. Whatever it is between you two, you need to talk to him about it. He's a powder keg, that one."

"We have talked," Kirk said, beginning to be irritated. "There is nothing between us. Friends, that's all."

Leyland eyed him. "I'll not argue with you then." His serious mood shifted in an instant to the teasing good humor of their earlier conversations. "Does that mean you're only available for, ah--what is it you Nor'Mericans say, a 'quickie'?"

Good god, Kirk thought, was he being propositioned? He wavered between embarrassed annoyance and half-tempted desire. He'd had male partners occasionally in the past. A cadet at the Academy, another when he'd been in Command School, and a brief intense affair with Gary Mitchell that had proven too volatile for them both and had been long over, thank god, before Gary's descent into madness. He didn't quite know how to respond to Leyland though. The man intrigued him, Janus in uniform, a chiaroscuro of good-natured bonhommie and tragic dark secrets, all wrapped in a very attractive physical package with no strings attached. Yet there was talk already about them. Could they manage any kind of liaison, however short-lived it would be, without confirming everyone's assumptions?

Suddenly he didn't care. Regardless of his strong tempations in that area, he and Spock were only friends and the whole damn ship was still sure they'd been to bed together. If he couldn't have Spock, he could at least enjoy this short time with Donald, and if everyone wanted to talk about him and Donald, let them talk. Donald wasn't crew, he was old enough to know what he wanted, and Jim had been too long without intimacy not to appreciate what was being offered.

He glanced at the chrono on the base of the computer terminal. "Hmm. I took an early lunch, so I'm really supposed to be back in about ten minutes. That's kinda short even for a quickie."

Leyland remained still, waiting. "On the other hand, Mr. Sulu doesn't get to sit in my chair all that often. He probably wouldn't mind another few minutes."

Leyland was reaching for him before he stopped speaking. They had been sitting adjacent to each other already, and he laid his hand on Kirk's belly, his long fingers splayed from navel to groin. Kirk shuddered and shifted forward in his chair, leaning back to give Leyland more access. The man slipped his hand inside the band of Kirk's trousers, brushing the head of his cock. His other hand undid the closure and slid open the seam at the fly. Kirk let his legs fall apart, wanting this, whatever Leyland would do. His cock sprang free from his briefs, straining up into the curve of Leylands fingers, greedy for the sensation--and the door chimed.

"Shit!" Kirk blurted out, jerking back in his seat and shoving himself back into his trousers as best he could, still erect and breathing heavily. He and Leyland stared at each other in frustrated indecision. Before either of them could speak, the door opened and Spock stood in the entry, pale and deadly, as much emotion in view as McCoy could ever have asked for. Leyland hissed, "Damn!" and launched into a long string of syllables in a language Kirk didn't recognize, harsh and guttural. Whatever he was saying, it obviously caught Spock entirely by surprise. He didn't move, but his body language changed dramatically, the rigid shoulders easing, his hands, which had been clenched at his sides, opening.

Leyland stood up and said to Kirk, "Whatever you thought your relationship was with him--I strongly suggest you consider re-evaluating it." Before Kirk could reply, he was at the door, saying something so softly to Spock that Kirk couldn't catch what it was, and then gone, into the corridor. Spock took another step into the cabin and the door closed behind him, shutting them in together.

Kirk stood and faced him. "What did you want, Spock?" he asked, as calmly as he could. He didn't understand what was happening here, except that Spock had been giving every evidence of what McCoy had called an "impressive rage."

There was a long silence, and the aura of energy slipped further away. The Vulcan who had come into the cabin in full warrior mode was fast turning into the Vulcan of the previous evening--closed off and remote.

Finally Spock said, "I have evidently misjudged--forgive me, Captain, I will return to the bridge. I apologize for interrupting . . . " and he stopped and swallowed and turned away.

"Wait, Spock. What did Commodore Leyland say to you? You looked like you were about to slug somebody when you first came in."

Spock didn't seem to have expected that question. "He merely . . . identified himself."

And Kirk, who had been expecting a much more straightforward answer, heard the degree of equivocation and began to wonder.

"Identified himself? What do you mean? He'd already been introduced to you. In what further way did he identify himself?"

"In a Vulcan way," Spock said, clearly reluctant to be more specific.

"Mr. Spock, whatever you were about to do when you came through that door, you backed off in a big hurry when he spoke to you. Unless this is a purely private matter, I have a right to know what it was. Your behavior reflects on me, if nothing else."

That got Spock's attention, as he had thought it might. "He gave assurances regarding a personal matter, Captain. It was--it did not reflect on you in any way."

Kirk observed this interesting way of getting around the truth and went for the jugular. "Then why did he say I should re-evaluate my relationship with you? I want a simple honest answer, Spock. No more beating around the bush."

"He refused challenge," Spock said woodenly.

"Challenge?" Kirk asked, his brain trying to figure that one out and coming up completely blank. Spock challenging Donald, for . . . and the only possible end to that sentence was so impossible that he didn't know whether to be outraged or amused or pure fucking terrified. Or stunned with the suspicion that he had very badly misinterpreted Spock's reaction to his attempt to define their relationship.

"He said you would not understand."

"Maybe you'd better explain, then," Kirk said. "I would like to know what you meant by that." He made his tone neutral--unthreatening. But it was the implacable command voice that he could always summon when he needed it, and Spock's very still face showed that he had heard it.

"My behavior has been inexcusable," Spock said, almost desperately. "Issue whatever reprimand is appropriate. But please allow this conversation to end, now."

"The hell I will. You barged in here in the middle of a private discussion and next thing to threatened a fellow officer. A _superior_ officer, I might remind you. The fact that he knew enough about Vulcans to understand what was going on and stop you in your tracks is not enough to get you off the hook. I want to know, right now, what you meant about a challenge."

He could just about see the wheels turning in Spock's head, could see him trying to work out a way to avoid saying what he would otherwise have to say. "It is the same challenge that you experienced on Vulcan," Spock told him, his lips barely moving. "When T'Pring wished to take Stonn as her mate instead of me, and chose you as her champion."

"That doesn't explain why you were going to challenge Donald," Kirk retorted. "You surely can't have thought I was entering into some kind of relationship with him, regardless of what you thought was going on here today."

"No, I thought--I did not think that was the case."

There was a long strained silence, with Kirk just looking at him, demanding an answer with his eyes, and Spock finally surrendered.

"I will tell you," he said, his eyes almost black, his voice gone beyond resignation to a kind of futile indifference. "I said nothing when you brought women to your quarters. I listened to the sounds you made with them. I saw your sated face when they left. I told myself you couldn't desire a man, that my attraction to you was illogical and unVulcan and hopeless. I made myself believe it because to have thought otherwise meant I would have to speak, or leave. Then you began to act toward me as if you might someday come to feel as I did. You chose my presence when you could have been with others. You began to touch me without concern for who saw you. You were so open that the crew has concluded we are lovers, and I knew of it and allowed myself to believe it could one day be true."

Kirk held his breath, shaken to the soles of his feet with a Spock who not only spoke of desire but radiated it. He exuded a level of sexuality that made a mockery of human lust.

"When you came to my cabin last night," he went on, "I knew I had been a fool. You could never want another man. Your attentions had been only shallow human sensuality, nothing more. I was 'just' a friend. I meditated the remainder of the night, attempting to turn my desire for you into other paths. In the morning, I thought I had succeeded. Then you gave command to Sulu, and when I inquired into your whereabouts, he said "The captain is with Donald," in that tone humans use when they wish to imply a physical relationship. I did not believe him. I came here to prove him wrong, and I could see in his face that he knew my motive. But he was not wrong, and it is only good fortune that I am speaking to you now and not in the brig for attacking a senior officer. So I am still a fool. When I have finished speaking, I will return to my station and if you are willing, no one but you and I will know what passed between us. When we reach Starbase Seven, I will request a transfer, and I will trouble you no longer."

His voice had gone flat. It was more than Spock had ever spoken to him at one time, confession and accusation all rolled into one searing blast. Spock turned as if to leave and Kirk knew he probably had only one chance to stop him. 'Re-evaluate,' Leyland had said. They taught you that in Command School, how to take a situation that turned you on your head without warning, re-evaluate your options and see your way to a resolution.

"No!" he said, giving no quarter. "You will do no such thing."

Spock's mouth fell open and whatever he might have been going to say died away.

"I will not approve a transfer. Do you know why? Because you are acting not just illogical but irrational. When did you tell me you wanted more than friendship? When did you do anything more than just allow my touching, or my company? When did you give me any reason to think you wanted me?"

He took a step toward Spock. "How was I supposed to know that my attentions were desired, and not just tolerated? You tell me how I should have known you felt this way when you couldn't tell me yourself? I'm not the mind reader here, Spock!"

Spock drew a long shaky breath. "You are correct. I read into your actions what I wanted to see." He looked away for a moment. "I can not continue to work with you after this. Please at least give me the dignity of allowing me to leave."

"Oh no you don't. You think you can say words like that to me and just walk away?"

Spock stood motionless, hardly breathing, his hands in fists at his side. "Gary Mitchell and I were together once," Kirk told him. "It was the most intense experience either of us ever had. It was too much for us--we ended up fighting all the time. When I was given Enterprise we knew it had to stop. You and I are already a hundred times closer than Gary ever allowed, and you think we can still function on the bridge if we're lovers?"

Spock relaxed noticeably. "Yes," he said simply. "You will always be my captain. You were that first, before I knew I wanted you."

It wasn't enough, not by itself. "Donald had a Vulcan lover," Kirk said. "He was murdered on Amreth, and Donald found the man responsible for it and killed him. Could we live with the knowledge of what might happen if one of us killed for the other?"

"You will have to answer that question for yourself," Spock told him. "I have already done so. I would count the consequences well worth it."

And he already knew that, Kirk realized. Had known it when he let Spock guard his back, when he saw the bloodlust in Spock's face every time he was threatened, and reveled in it. It shamed him that he had accepted that, had used it, and never looked beyond to see what fueled it.

He felt such conflicting emotions over his own answer to that question. "Would you think less of me if I kept my oath and didn't seek revenge?" he had to ask. "I know how badly I would want to mangle anyone who hurt you, but I think it would be the end of me too if I avenged you that way. It wouldn't bring you back. I could see in Donald's eyes what he gave up when he killed Stovik's murderer."

Spock's breath caught and he reached out to take Kirk's arm. "No! Do not ever think I want you to act contrary to your nature. Vengeance is not part of your personality, I know that. It is not only your oaths which would keep you from it."

"But taking unreasonable risks to protect you is," Kirk said. "I've risked this ship and crew for you, and you've done the same for me."

"We must deal with that," Spock admitted. "We should have spoken of it before now. I have been surprised that McCoy has not demanded a session with him on just that subject. Being lovers will not make that more of a risk."

"And if we were bonded?" Kirk ssked. "Could either of us predict what we would do?"

A shadow crossed Spock's face. "I do not know whether we could risk a bond, badly as I desire it. For now, it would not be necessary."

Kirk had his own ideas about how long Spock could wait, but the bond was not his primary concern. "What if it just became too hard for us," he whispered, "like it did for Gary and me. Could either of us let the other go? Could we walk away from this and just be friends again? I don't think I could do that, Spock."

"Nor could I. I have already passed beyond that point. I can no longer bear to be with you every day and never touch you. I could restrain myself and take the crumbs you offered when I thought you were incapable of desiring a man, but to see you with Leyland and know that you would have allowed him what you withheld from me--if I cannot have what I desire, I must leave. Forgive me, Jim, there is no choice for me any longer."

His earlier anger had disappeared completely; in his face Kirk could see only grief and resignation. It was almost too much for him to think he had caused, even if indirectly, such overwhelming sadness for a person he cared about as much as he did Spock. He didn't know whether this was what he would once have called love. Love seemed too tame a word for what lay between them, inadequate for the passion Spock felt, too trite for the surge of feelings that Spock's confession had roused in himself.

There was one thing he could give Spock though. "Whatever I would have done with Donald," he said, "it would have been precisely _because_ he didn't mean that much to me, not the other way around. No risk, just the moment's pleasure. I can't do that with you. You were wrong to think I couldn't desire you--I already wanted you. I just didn't think there was any chance you'd feel the same way. But I'm afraid--I'm afraid this . . . what we're feeling now, would consume us."

Spock started to reply, but Kirk stopped him with a raised hand. "No, wait. We're out here to do a job, and I know that's as important to you as it is to me. For your feelings to have taken priority over our mission they must be pretty strong, and I already had pretty strong feelings of my own. But Spock--can you honestly tell me that our feelings are so important we can't put them aside for now and do the job we were sent out here for?"

Spock sighed a little and moved away from him. "There is possibly a semantic problem," he said. "To a human, the feeling is the reality, and if the reality is unpalatable or inconvenient, it is often simply ignored. For a Vulcan, the choice is an another level. We choose a path, and accept whatever arises from that choice. When we first knew each other, I perceived my choices very clearly. I could follow a path in which you were a fellow officer, no more. If I had done that, we would not now be having this conversation. The possibility of it would simply never have arisen. But I chose differently. I recognized my attraction to you, and believed you could someday return it. The emotions I experience now are a logical result of that choice, and to deny the feelings would be to pretend I had made a different choice five years ago. So to answer your question--no, I can not 'put aside' my feelings. But I can control my outward expression of them, certainly. I have been doing so for almost five years."

"I'm sorry," Kirk told him helplessly. "I don't want to make things any harder for you. But you've got to understand--this puts me in a completely untenable position, for you to say there has to be some kind of relationship between us or you're going to leave. I can't make that kind of choice. It isn't fair for you to ask that of me."

"It is not an ultimatum, Jim. Only a description of the situation." He hesitated. "What we had before would be enough for now. We are approaching the end of our time out here in any case. When we return to Starfleet Headquarters we will have other decisions to make about our futures."

"What we had before . . . is that truly enough? A glance, a touch, an evening playing chess? Tell me what you really want, Spock. I'm blundering in the dark if you can't at least do that much."

He realized even as he spoke the words that "I want" were probably conditioned out of a young Vulcan's vocabulary. Spock went very still for a moment, then looked at him with none of his usual control.

He said, "I want to be by your side in everything. I want to touch you in all the ways lovers touch each other." He took a deep breath. "I want to guard your back, and take you inside me in the night, and wake next to you in the morning. I want to make you feel everything your body can feel and hear you cry out and feel you tremble. And when we are old, or our enemies have found us, I want to hold your mind close in mine and go with you into the darkness and be with you for all time."

Kirk stood there in stunned speechless silence. Every concern he'd ever had about a relationshp with Spock went into overdrive, yet at the same time he yearned with everything in him for the passion in that torrent of words. No one else had ever offered him so much, and he was rational enough to know that no one would ever demand as much from him. He let his head fall onto Spock's shoulder and felt the other's hands come up to hold his arms.

Spock said hoarsely, "You should not have asked me that question."

He straightened and looked Spock in the eye. "No, I shouldn't have, but not for the reason you're thinking." He felt a crooked smile on his lips. "When someone offers you the galaxy on a platter, how can you say 'It's too much'?"

He looked aside for a moment, thinking of what he had to say. "I want all of that. I want you. I think I would give up everything for what you've offered. And I can't give it up, Spock. Starfleet put six years and a whole hell of a lot of money into getting me out here, same for you. We don't have the right to just fall in love and take the chance that we would throw their investment away. It's not just our oaths--it's a matter of personal integrity too."

"Bonded couples serve together on the Vulcan ships," Spock said quietly. "And now that Betazed has joined the Federation, there will undoubtedly be mind-linked couples in Starfleet from that world as well. Starfleet and the Federation are no longer dominated by humans, and changes will come."

"We'll do this the right way, then," Kirk said. "No skulking around between each other's cabins at night, hoping nobody sees us."

"Admiral Voigt is currently at Starbase Seven," Spock told him. "He has a bonded Vulcan on his staff and he is known to be sympathetic to the concerns of mind-linked couples in 'fleet. There is a healer on Seven as well, to serve the Vulcans who live there. We can speak freely to either of them."

Kirk nodded, feeling a gathering excitement. Trust Spock, the eternal enigma, to be what no one expected of him. The galaxy on a platter? He felt as though he'd just been offered the whole damned universe, and permission to enjoy it.

He turned to Spock, wondering about something. "Have you ever been with a man before?"

Spock shook his head. "You will teach me," he said simply.

Kirk couldn't resist. "Then stand still," he said. "Don't move."

He lifted his mouth to Spock's and kissed him with all the skill he'd acquired over half a lifetime of kissing, lingering on the soft lips until Spock began to kiss him back, only his mouth moving, nothing else. He eased away, pleased at having provoked that much response, pleased that Spock had restrained himself from anything more. It was a test for them both, in a way.

"If we don't get back to work," he said, "nobody is going to believe that all we did down here was talk."

"Why did you tell me not to move?"

"Because if you had put your arms around me, we wouldn't be on the way back to the bridge right now." He flicked a glance at Spock, saw the dark gaze that understood. "Later," he said, a promise. "Soon."

They stood close together in the lift, arms touching, no more. A thought came to him. "You think we should should make some sort of announcement," he asked, "or just let everyone go on thinking we've been lovers all along."

"Perhaps I should first determine whose money is on which conclusion," Spock said gravely.

So it was that when the lift door opened, it was the captain's hearty laughter that everyone heard, and turned to watch them walk out onto the bridge with Kirk's hand casually on Spock's arm.

Sulu rose from the center seat, the relief on his face giving answer to something Kirk had been wondering about. He stopped and gestured to the helmsman. "Mr. Sulu, come with me, please."

He stepped back to the lift and waited as Sulu came up from the center well, his face now tense and wary. The doors opened and he beckoned Sulu inside.

He didn't want to be too hard on a young officer, but Sulu had provoked something without thinking about the possible consequences. "Mr. Sulu," he said, "sexual innuendo has no place on the bridge of my ship," and Sulu, to his credit, didn't pretend to misunderstand.

"Sorry, sir."

In truth, there was generally a fair amount of bawdy joking on the bridge, to which no one objected, but it wouldn't hurt to damp things down for a while. And it wouldn't hurt Sulu to reinforce the message a little either, he thought. "Just remember, Lieutenant, it's not a good idea to get a Vulcan really pissed off at you."

"Yessir!"

"Dismissed, then." He thumbed the 'Open' button and allowed Sulu to escape back to his station, wondering what flood of new gossip that statement was going to produce.

He was acutely aware of Spock sitting behind him all the rest of the afternoon. Leyland stayed off the bridge, Sulu was rigidly correct in all he did--to the obvious amusement of his colleagues-- and the time dragged on second by long second to the moment when the Beta shift personnel finally began to dribble in. When his relief had arrived and formally taken over the position, he still had to wait as Spock gave last minute instructions to the lieutenant at his own station. He'd been hoping they would be the only ones on the lift but several others joined them, the usual going-off-duty chatter more subdued than usual.

"Want to go straight to dinner or are you going to stop by your quarters first?" Kirk asked Spock, amused at the sub-text no one else would understand. He wasn't sure whether he was ready yet to be alone with Spock but he could feel a slowly growing tide of anticipation and desire for the moment when it did finally come.

"I believe I shall go directly to the mess hall for my evening meal," Spock replied promptly, but with an eyebrow at Kirk, who did his best not to smile too much. Spock could play that game too, could he? Jim supposed that if he could speak as directly about passion and desire as he had done, if he could make jokes like the one in the turbolift, he probably was perfectly capable of teasing too. It was just a surprise to hear it, one more surprise to add to this afternoon's list of new experiences. In all the fantasies he'd had about himself and Spock, he'd envisioned the Vulcan as physically demonstrative, perhaps, but not much more open emotionally than he ever was. He had seen himself as providing the majority of the emotional interaction between them. He had a feeling that Spock wasn't finished surprising him and the thought of what might be coming kept a little smile on his face all the way to the mess hall.

He and Spock chose their food and glanced together around the crowded room for a table.

"Hey, Jim! Spock! Over here."

McCoy had a booth all to himself and was beckoning to them.

"Want to sit with him?" Kirk asked and Spock nodded slightly.

"We must decide what to say to him," Spock said. "He will be distressed if he is not alerted before any general announcements are made."

"Considering the conversation I had with him yesterday, I'm not sure he's going to believe anything I tell him now," Jim said with a resigned sigh.

They slid in across from McCoy, a familiar arrangement in the many times the three of them had eaten together.

"Glad to see you two kissed and made up."

Whatever response McCoy might have been expecting to that remark, it obviously wasn't a furiously blushing captain and a rigid first officer.

"Uh-oh. What did I say?" And then his eyes widened and he turned disbelievingly to Kirk. "Jim. Did you _lie_ to me?"

Kirk hid behind his napkin for a moment and then threw it down on the table with a sigh. "No, Bones, I didn't lie to you. I told you the truth. It was just--yesterday's truth, okay? Some things have changed since then."

McCoy looked back and forth between the two of them, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Well, I'll be damned. Are congratulations in order? And are you making announcements or is this still supposed to be a secret?"

"Congratulations accepted," Jim told him for both of them, after a glance at Spock's face. "As far as announcements are concerned, not until it's been settled with 'fleet. We're hoping to do that while we're in port at the starbase. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't talk about this until we know where we stand with Mendez, and however much farther up the ranks it goes from him."

"I won't say anything," McCoy promised. "But I'll give you a piece of advice. Get married, or whatever it's called on Vulcan, and then talk to 'fleet. Not much they can say when the deed's already done."

Jim said slowly, "That's tempting, but one thing you don't do in the navy is take your superior officers' options away from them. I sure as hell wouldn't like anyone to pull something like that on me."

Next to him Spock nodded in agreement. "Our stated intention to form a union has the same force on Vulcan as a legal ceremony. If we discuss the matter with Admiral Voight, on the record, we will in effect have made an official declaration."

"Oh, sneaky!" Jim said in admiration. "We talk it over with Voight, who is probably going to support us anyway, and if Mendez has a problem with it, or anyone up the chain of command from him, we just tell them that the process of discussing it has made it official. No one can fault us for seeking a superior officer's advice, and if nobody objects we can go ahead and have a ceremony and they'll all think we waited for permission. I like that."

"Better make the ceremony soon," McCoy said with a grin, "or you'll have to hire a hall big enough to hold everybody. If you can do it on board, everybody will be here already. Wonder if Food Service can replicate flowers. And Jim, you better look at takin' off a few pounds if you want to fit into your dress uniform."

He chattered on about tuxedos and music and ceremonial language and which officials would have to be invited all through the meal, until Kirk stopped him with a smile.

"I hate to deflate all your plans but don't you think we'd better wait to see how it goes with Mendez?"

"You won't have any problem," McCoy said confidently. "He won't take a chance on making a decision by himself--he'll bump it upstairs to Komack, and you know Komack won't miss a PR opportunity. This would be perfect for his little media-oriented mind. I get to be best man, hear?"

"Hmmph," Kirk snorted, "if it's going to be that much of an affair, I think we'd better just elope."

He could feel Spock's leg against his under the table. He was tired of talking to McCoy, tired of talking about what problems they might encounter. He wanted to be with Spock, and the rest of the universe could go to hell for a few hours. "Wanna just elope, Mr. Spock?"

"That would be agreeable," Spock said softly, and Jim slid out of the booth, with an eyebrow for McCoy's startled face.

"I think we just made it official," he said. "We'll still have our chat with 'fleet though, so don't run around telling everybody. You may get to be best man yet, if Komack wants to throw us a wedding."

They left McCoy grinning from ear to ear, slid their dishes into the recycler and went down the corridor to the lift, attuned to each other with a slowly building anticipation. No one else waited at the lift, but when the doors opened, Leyland strode out. He stopped abruptly at the sight of them, then began to smile, and Kirk wondered what their faces and body language were giving away.

"Ah, th'art a gradely coople," Leyland exclaimed, his accent much thicker than Jim had heard from him before. "Tha'll forgi' me, Mr. Spock? Twas no trespass I meant."

"It is I who should ask your pardon," Spock said, shaking his head. "You shield well. I did not sense the severed bond until you spoke to me." He hesitated, and then, surprising Kirk, said gently, "Commodore, go to Vulcan. There is help for you there."

Leyland lips tightened and his eyes closed briefly, and when he spoke, the Lancashire accent had faded again and there was only his north country lilt overlaying the standard Anglish. "I know. I've put it off, worrying that I'd not get a ship again if I was thought to be unbalanced, but I think I'll have to do it." He gave them both a twisted little smile. "In the meantime, there's always Hikaru. You'll not mind, Captain, if he spends some off-duty time with me?"

Kirk frowned but said mildly, "Lt. Sulu is an adult. He can spend his own time with whom he pleases."

Leyland said cryptically to Spock, "Will you explain, then? I haven't the heart for it."

Spock said "Yes," and he nodded to them both and walked away in the direction of the mess hall.

Kirk raised an eyebrow at Spock as they entered the lift. "Please do explain. I was about to ask you what that was all about anyway."

Spock drew a deep breath. "It has to do with losing his bondmate, and the fact that it was a traumatic sudden loss with no preparation. On Vulcan there are safeguards to protect the surviving member of a bonded pair if one of them dies of an illness, or of old age. And there are methods to ease the pain when a bond is severed abruptly, as Commodore Leyland's was. Without those safeguards, the survivor may seek other compatible partners with an almost obsessive need."

"You're saying he propositioned me out of some compulsive need for--for physical contact? And that he's going to pursue Sulu for the same reason? That sounds almost . . . predatory. Are you suggesting that either of us would behave the same way?"

Spock said dryly, "I've no doubt he found you attractive without any other motive. And Lt. Sulu has made it clear he does not need to be 'pursued,' as you put it. But yes, if we were bonded and one of us were suddenly killed, the other would feel that same need for physical closeness. It is not logical, but neither is it ungovernable. Commodore Leyland controlled himself so well that I did not perceive his condition until he allowed me to see it. You would do as well."

They exited the lift and walked slowly down the corridor on the officers' deck. "It is one reason I am reluctant for us to bond," Spock said. "Much as I desire a bond, I must acknowledge the risks each of us faces."

"Can we be lovers for long without a bond?"

"Until the time of my next pon farr. We will have at least several years to determine the best course for our lives."

Kirk stopped at Spock's cabin door. "Your quarters will be more comfortable for you," and Spock nodded and touched the keyplate.

He called up the peripheral room lights but left off the overhead fixtures. The dim lighting at floor level and the spots of light from the individual lamps threw long bars of soft radiance across the room, leaving their faces in shadow.

"Will you allow me to command you now?" Spock asked him, his voice husky, and Kirk nodded his assent, surprised but willing to follow. He'd always known there were depths to Spock that were not obvious to everyone, but for those depths to include sensuality and desire and jealousy, and the empathy and compassion he'd shown Leyland, had been a shock. It was almost as though he were seeing a different person in the skin of his First Officer, whom he'd thought he knew. The revelation appealed to everything in him--his own frankly sensual nature, his enjoyment of risk-taking, the lure of the unknown. And the little voice that had been telling him lately that he was ready now to see the same person on the other side of the bed every morning, ready for stability, ready to plan a life together with someone and to grow old with that person. He and Spock could not grow old together as two humans could, or two Vulcans, but Spock had told him once that his life expectancy would not be that of a full Vulcan, so perhaps there would not be too many years for Spock alone.

Spock held him lightly at the waist, his fingers teasing under the hem of Jim's tunic. His palms radiated heat; Jim imagined them cupping his ass and inhaled sharply. The fingers crept up his back under the fabric, lifting the shirt up along Spock's arms. Jim raised his arms obediently and Spock slipped it over his head and tossed it aside. Spock's eyes appraised him as though he were on display, living flesh for sale, and he put one hand on his hip and thrust his sex forward.

"You are very wanton," Spock commented, with a small smile.

"You look at me like that and expect me not to react?"

"If this were early Vulcan, and you stood on the auction block like that, you would fetch the highest price ever given. I could probably not afford you."

He felt a little stab of surprise, both that pre-reform Vulcan might have entertained slavery and that he'd been right about the look in Spock's eyes. "Suppose you had bought me," he suggested provocatively. "What would you have done with me?"

The occasional partner over the years had wanted to play b & d games with him but it had never appealed to him. Holding a person's life in the palm of his hand was not a thrill; it was an everyday sober responsibility. Nor was the submissive role something he could easily give--the pretense, the acoutrements, the grovelling, just seemed pointless and silly. But Spock--that wouldn't be just a game, not if Spock exerted his own strength and purpose. Spock outreached him in so many ways that it was his own position over Spock in actual rank that sometimes seemed unreal. To acknowledge that, to step down from the title and the privilege and let Spock be in every way who he actually was, gave him a thrill that nothing in their professional relationship came near to matching.

Spock's face shifted subtly, the power that he normally kept hidden coming to the fore. "I would train you to obey my every whim," he said softly. "I would give you such pleasure that I had only to withhold it for you to beg to please me."

"What would you have me do?" Kirk asked him, trying for sultry but suspecting that all he could manage at this point was breathless. The more he thought about this little fantasy the better he liked it. He had a sudden vision of McCoy listening to the conversation, and his chin going _thud_ on the floor. It was intensely erotic to imagine the relationship with Spock as so out of the ordinary that no one who knew them could conceive of it. It would be theirs alone, and anyone who might indulge in their own fantasies about their captain and first officer would be so wide of the mark that it would hardly matter what they thought.

Spock inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. "Show me what gives you pleasure," he ordered.

Kirk grinned--that he could do. He knew he had a tendency to show off a bit anyway. "I like my ass held," he said suggestively, moving closer, but Spock shook his head.

"What else? _Show_ me."

He started to speak, then heard the emphasis in Spock's voice, and brought one hand up to a nipple. "I like to squeeze them," he said, demonstrating with thumb and middle finger, "and then flick them, like this." He watched Spock watching the motion of his index finger. Polite attention, no more. Spock was going to have to do better than polite attention, he thought, with an inward grin.

"Show me something more."

"I might have to take some clothes off to show you any more," he said, sliding his palms down inside his waistband in as provocative a manner as he could.

"You have my permission to do so."

 _I have your permission, do I?_ Kirk thought, even more amused. His cock was already poking at his fly, something that Spock could not have failed to see, so he opened his trousers and let it out. "Sometimes," he said, "I like to just brush it against something soft." He glanced over his shoulder. "Like my shirt there."

"Demonstrate." The deep voice was approaching gravelly, Kirk noticed. Spock might be able to keep his face under control but he was definitely having trouble with his voice.

He bent over and picked up the shirt, posturing a little more than was really necessary, and dragged it across the head of his cock. In truth, he usually liked more and heavier stimulation than that, but anything he did right now was immensely erotic. Just to show off like this for Spock was making his balls so tight they hurt. He'd never been so blatantly exhibitionist before, but it was turning him on like a rocket, and if Spock didn't do-- _dammit_ \--something, pretty quick, he was going to make a real fool of himself. It was even more arousing to realize that Spock might be intending him to do just that.

"You like that?" he purred.

Spock cocked his head to one side. "I am sure it is an interesting sensation."

"Doesn't affect you at all?" There was no evidence that Spock was aroused.

"Vulcans are capable of more control than humans," Spock informed him, and Kirk chuckled wickedly and began to push his trousers down.

"Just _more_ control, Mr. Spock? That's all?" He let the trousers fall to his boot tops, effectively hobbling him, and waited to see what instructions he would get next.

"Stimulate yourself."

 _What the hell does he think I've been doing?_ Kirk wondered, but obeyed, curling his hand around his cock and slowly, sensuously, stroking himself.

"Is this what you want?"

"I want to see what you do when you think no one is watching you."

Kirk almost stopped what he was doing, in sheer disbelief. "Have you watched me?" he croaked. God, he didn't know whether to be even more turned on, or completely put off at the thought that Spock might have spied on him.

Spock's face twitched just a bit. "I prefer not to answer that question," he said calmly, but there was enough teasing in his eyes to give himself away.

"So you haven't watched me," Kirk guessed. Time to up the ante a little. "You just want to know what you've been missing, is that it?" He removed his hand from his cock and bent over to pull off his boots and remove his trousers. His cock bobbed up and down as he moved, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Spock's transfixed gaze on it.

"Here's what you've been missing." He very coolly cupped his hands around his balls and squeezed lightly, making his cock stand out even more prominently. "This is what you wanted to do, isn't it?" He touched one finger to the weeping slit and smeared the fluid around the head. "You wanted to see me come, didn't you?" And he began to stroke himself hard, letting the sensation mount now, not holding anything back.

Spock's lips parted. He might have been holding his breath. In the energy that flowed between them it was hard to say which of them controlled the other. Jim wasn't sure he'd be able to stay on his feet when he climaxed, but he was going to get a reaction from Spock if he had to turn his balls inside out.

In the silence punctuated only by Jim's panting breath, Spock began to remove his clothing. The tunic first, pulled off deliberately one sleeve at a time, then drawn over his head, leaving a figure all in black. He pried off one boot with the other, and then the second boot with a sock-clad foot, all of it without taking his eyes off Kirk. With exquisite slowness, he peeled off the tee shirt and stood in trousers and socks alone, his black chest hair disappearing down along his belly inside the pants.

Kirk had a stunning vivid knowledge of what the end of this joint show was going to be, and held himself back as much as he could. Biting the inside of his cheek fiercely with his teeth helped for a moment, but as Spock opened the front of his trousers, he suddenly and explosively lost the contest. Caught up in the strip-tease, he hadn't even noticed when Spock allowed his arousal to take effect, but the sight of the Vulcan cock emerging from Spock's black briefs, as enlarged and rigid as anyone could want, literally took his breath away from him. His balls contracted with such intensity that if he had been able to make a sound, it would have been a scream. His knees buckled. He had wanted his ass held, and Spock grasped him with such force that when he began to think again at all, he knew he was probably going to have handprints on his cheeks. Spock held him up and pulled them together tightly and his cock spewed its geyser of semen between their bodies, wetting them both with trails of white.

Spock lowered him to the floor, pushed away the briefs and trousers in one fluid motion and coated himself with Jim's come. "Give yourself to me," he whispered fiercely, his fingers poised at the meld points. Half dazed, Kirk murmured, "Yes . . . " and felt Spock's mind in his. He had one frozen second of fear, in which he thought Spock had completely lost control and would bond them, and then felt his ass relax to the consistency of softened butter and the hard Vulcan cock enter him in one long smooth stroke. It was done so quickly that he was filled before his body could react. Spock's hand left his brow and the strong arms lifted his legs and held them up. Spock covered him. Rigidly motionless, beads of sweat on his upper lip, black eyes glittering, he pinned Kirk to the floor.

His body fractured into zones of sensation, Kirk arched his back and impaled himself even more deeply onto Spock, and Spock began to move in him. The rough carpet prickled his back and shoulders, the movement against his prostate set off another round of sensation in his cock, his balls throbbed every time Spock pressed against the back of his scrotum. He could still feel the imprint of Spock's fingers on his ass. Inside him, something swelled and before his over-stimulated brain could register the sensation, something burst, and jets of fluid erupted into him, The muscles of his back and his ass convulsed, and his own cock jerked and throbbed again in sympathetic resonance. His labored breathing caught on itself in a long shuddering moan, and was echoed by the sound of Spock's guttural gasping.

The conflagration slowly cooled. Spock softened and slipped away from him, and Jim pushed his arms away and lowered his legs to the deck.

"You okay?" he asked, with some concern. Spock knelt motionless, his head hanging.

Spock rasped, "Yes." He slowly sat back on his heels, still breathing hard.

"The intensity was . . . unexpected," he said.

Jim grinned at him. He'd gotten the reaction he wanted and then some. "Serves you right," he said, trying to talk around the continuing need for oxygen. "You made me put on a show that I've never done for anyone else. You'd better find that intense if you ever want me to do it again."

Spock lowered himself carefully to lie next to him. "You have never done that? I expected your sexual repertoire to be quite varied."

He was teasing again, Jim saw. "Looks as though it was varied enough for you," he said with a grin.

Spock rolled over and kissed him lazily. "Indeed. A scientists is always open to new possibilities."

"Not right this minute, though, I hope." The shock and joy of this new vision of Spock still buoyed him, but the floor was hard and other needs were beginning to make themselves known. Jim got up, stretching. "Whew. Maybe we'd better get in bed first next time. I'm going to get cleaned up. Shower with me?"

Spock nodded and pushed himself up as stiffly as Jim had done. "You were not offended by my precipitous behavior?"

"Essentially taking over my body?" Jim asked, wondering if a little more teasing was safe. He pursed his lips. "It made for an interesting first time. In the future though . . . "

He trailed off, watching the uncertainty on Spock's face. "In the future, Mister," he purred, sliding his hands around his lover's waist, "since I belong to you, I think you can do whatever you want with me."

Spock's face was still a bit tentative. "You do know that I will never take advantage of our relationship, do you not? You must be free to command me as you always have."

"If I was worried about that we wouldn't be here right now," Jim told him. "I think you're more concerned about potential problems than I am."

"When my Time comes upon me again, if we are bonded, I will take what my body needs with no concern for your wishes or priorities. Do you understand my concern?"

"Yes," Kirk told him seriously. "But that's well in the future. We'll have time to plan, time to make decisions. Now can be just for ourselves, can't it?"

Spock's eyes glowed. "Yes." He pulled Kirk to him and ran his hands down Kirk's back to his ass, rubbing against him sensuously. "You are most enticing."

"I am most sticky," Kirk corrected him. "And so are you. Shower, Mr. Spock!"

They managed to bathe without more than a few close encounters, and lay together comfortably in Spock's bunk talking drowsily of unimportant things. Spock finally pulled a coverlet over himself and called the lights down. Their hands touched and held under the blanket. "I love you," Spock said softly.

"Coulda fooled me," Jim teased, then turned serious. "I owe Donald Leyland a big favor, I think. Remind me to thank him, okay?"

"Mmm-hmm," Spock said, more than half asleep, and in the silence afterward, Jim said softly, "I love you."

He wasn't positive that Spock had heard him, but there would be plenty of other opportunities. He could say it again when they woke in the morning. Perhaps one of them would wake during the night, and rouse the other, and while they were exploring new possibilities they could say it to each other again. He wanted to make long slow love to Spock next time, to contrast with the almost overwhelming intensity of this first time. He wanted to fuck Spock in the shower. He wanted to see Spock do what Spock had made him do, watch him stimulate himself to climax. He wanted . . . and the assorted stresses of the day caught up with him and pulled him down into sleep, and when he woke, it was to feel a smile curving his mouth and a hot hand in a sensitive place, and he gave himself over in joy to his Vulcan master.  
  
---  
  
**Author's Note:**

> Challenge: "Spock will tolerate Jim screwing around with women, but when it's another man..."


End file.
